Who We Are (Hiro x Reader)

chapter one

{above video is the song that inspired the story}

You pull the crowbar out of your backpack and pry the sliding doors of a local grocery store open as quietly as possible. Back in the day, you thought to yourself, these things would open for me. Once inside, you tap the crowbar against the floor and stand silently. If there are any of those monsters, they'd be moaning and groaning by now.

The monsters took over about a half a year ago. It happened pretty quickly here in San Fransokyo. One minute it was a bright and sunny summer's day, the next there were riots in the streets and the undead were eating people alive. You didn't know where your family was; the news said that LA was safe. Your mom, dad, and your baby sister went to get your grandmother. You were supposed to meet them there, but how? You were sick with the flu the day it happened. You hid yourself in the attic until the streets were quiet.

Occasionally, well, more than just occasionally, a dead corpse will stagger its way towards you, its jaw hanging loose and its hands gnarled and grotesque. You've discovered that planting a crowbar directly into their head seems to be the only way to kill them. Sometimes its difficult to do; seeing a close neighbor with empty eyes and a chunk taken out of their throat isn't a pretty thing to look at, especially when they're trying to eat you as well.

"Alright," you mutter. "What do we have here?" The shelves have been picked clean of most food items, but you're running off of one meal worth of sunflower seeds and you're starving. You manage to find a can of tuna and a dented can of fried apples. Better than nothing. No water bottles, but you still have a couple left from your own kitchen in your bag. Desperate for a taste of dessert, you rummage through the mess that used to be the candy aisle. "Nothing. Of course."

You exit the store, keeping your crowbar tight in your fist. That and the knife were about all you had as weapons. You were itching to get your hands on a gun - despite never shooting one before - because they seemed like the best way to get rid of the creepers from afar. Creepers were what you called them. Zombies sounded to Hollywood in your opinion, and these were different. They didn't eat your brains, they ate every part of you and left the rest of you to turn. You didn't want to die at all, but you'd gladly welcome a bullet in the head instead of one of those nasty bites.

You turn the corner and stop in your tracks as a moan lets out from between two dumpsters. A creeper is wedged in between, it's hands clawing the air to get to you. Its skin was slightly green and its eyes were a bit sunken in, but apart from that and the huge bite on the side of its throat, it looked almost normal. It's a girl, or it was a girl. Whatever it is, it isn't human anymore. The creeper has light brown hair and a pink sweater on. For a minute, you think about who they were like before this all happened. An eighteen year old girl, probably looking for a future college, excited for her boyfriend to come down from his university up north and see her graduate high school. She had a future. Everyone did. Now...

What exactly happened to cause this, you're not sure. No one is. All you know is that six months into this apocalypse and you haven't heard anything from your family. You haven't found a car or a single person who hasn't tried to eat you. People were here, you knew, but they mostly kept to their groups. They lived in houses with boarded up windows, all the while you lived in the attic of a funeral home.

Ironic, maybe, but it works. You took the cushions and throw pillows off of the couches and the curtains off of one of the back windows. It was cozy enough for you, but gosh, were you lonely. You missed your family more than anything, and you didn't want to face the facts that they're probably gone.

"They're fine," you whisper. "They're fine." You continue your walk until you reach the funeral home. You look around before entering through the back; going straight up the staircase and up the ladder and landing on the dusty wooden floor of the windowless room. You sit on your makeshift bed, pulling the curtain up over your legs to protect you from the chilly winter air. You rub your hands together to gather some friction before you open up the can of tuna.

"Yeah, I saw her walk in here," a male voice says from downstairs. You freeze.

Someone's here! Someone's here!

"She couldn't of gone far, Dave. She was pretty little."

You clamp your hand down over your trembling lips and blindly grab your crowbar. Clutching it tightly in your shaking hand, you stand up and walk towards the attic door.

"So what, if she was little? That kid could have food or weapons!"

"Nevermind, Luke. Just go check upstairs."

You sprinted straight towards one of the wooden boards. This attic didn't have a window, but you were about to make one. You placed it underneath a rickety piece of wood and tug. When it loosens, you set it down quietly.

Work faster, work harder.

"Hey, the spare room is empty. How's the kitchen?"

"Empty!"

"Where's the girl at, then?"

Two boards down.

"Hey, Dave, look!"

One more.

"She's probably in the attic. Let's go."

Dead, dead, dead!

You tug up on the very last board and squeeze through the small space. You take a leap out just as they run into the attic.

You land hard on your feet. The impact makes you collapse on your knees and scrape up your palms.

"Hey, you!" one shouts.

"You're not getting away now!"

You scramble up and sprint ahead. You can hear their footsteps thudding behind you in thundering steps. The beat of your heart is loud in your ears and you pray that the monsters can't hear it, too.

Where do I go?

The city is abandoned, but literally every building has broken windows and burnt housing.

I'm dead!

Your legs, now pure jelly, give out from under you. You cry out in pain and fear and blink away the sweat that pours down your face. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad, Annabell. I wanted to find you guys. I truly did.

"Psst! Hey!" You turn your head and see two figures kneeling beside a dumpster. You make out the brim of a cap. Your eyes squint, and you can see them. Two boys with dark, wide eyes. "Come on! We'll help you!"